


A Karaoke Crush AU

by empireofourown_100



Category: Portrait de la jeune fille en feu | Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
Genre: A little angst, F/F, Is this a kissing book?, Yes it Is, a lot of fluff, because this is a karaoke crush AU, buckle up ladies, but first some love songs, no promises about how long it will take to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25747372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empireofourown_100/pseuds/empireofourown_100
Summary: Héloïse scrunched her nose and knitter eyebrows together confused, “karaoke is when bars scroll lyrics over an impossibly small screen and people who have had entirely too much to drink screech the chorus of ABBA or Shania Twain at the top of their lungs; is it not?” Sophie laughs loudly and responds “usually yes, but this is like karaoke on steroids!” She abandons her fork once more, using both hands to draw visuals in the air as she describes a grungy, mostly towny bar not far from campus that has an acoustic karaoke show one night a week.“Most performers play their own accompaniment, but there’s also a woman there who kind of runs it that will back you up on guitar. She’s gor-geous and I swear half the people that perform do it just to sit on stage next to her.” Héloïse files this information away as a point in favor of karaoke night.Or the one where Heloise and Sophie are exchange students doing a semester in America, Marianne is a TA who loves music, and they rock each other's worlds.
Relationships: Héloïse & Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire), Héloïse/Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 92





	1. Ruin My Life

ONE 

“You should come; please, please say you will! I won’t be half as nervous if I know you are there watching.”

Sophie places her splayed hand over Héloïse’s book pressing it flat against the table and thereby pulling the words away from her friend’s ravenous gaze. “Were you even listening?” Sophie asks. 

Héloïse blinks repeatedly trying to extract herself from the mythology being painted by her text and ground herself in the present. She throws an apologetic look at Sophie who scoffs and removes her hand from the book, picking up her fork again. 

“Your loss, that was some of my best groveling.”

Héloïse chuckles and bends the corner of her page, shutting the book. “And what, pray tell, was the objective of this groveling I have so regretfully missed.” 

Sophie places a large bite of Macaroni in her mouth holding Héloïse in suspense while she chews. “Karaoke.” She says finally, “I want you to come tomorrow night and watch, I’ve finally found something worth playing.” 

“Playing?” Héloïse asked, scrunching her nose and eyebrows together, “karaoke is when bars scroll lyrics over an impossibly small screen, and people who have had entirely too much to drink screech the chorus of ABBA or Shania Twain at the top of their lungs; is it not?”

Sophie laughs loudly drawing glares from other students in the dining hall that are trying to cram for midterms over their rushed lunches. “Usually yes, but this is like karaoke on steroids!” She abandons her fork once more, using both hands to draw visuals in the air as she describes a grungy, mostly towny bar not far from campus that one of her musical theory classmates told her has an acoustic karaoke show one night a week. 

“Most performers play their own accompaniment, but there’s also a woman there who kind of runs it that will back you up on guitar. She’s gor-geous and I swear half the people that perform do it just to sit on stage next to her.”

Héloïse files this information away as a point in favor of karaoke night. “And how do you know this?”

“I’ve gone with Melanie the last couple of weeks-“

“so this is where you have been sneaking off to on Wednesday nights!?”

“-but she will not be attending this week because her Biology exam is at 8 am the next day and she wants to be well-rested.”

“Glad to know you will be home at a reasonable hour tonight,” Héloïse teases.

Sophie just sticks her tongue out in response. “So will you come?”

“I don’t know Soph, maybe after midterms,” Héloïse says her eyes landing back on her book. She really needs to finish it so she can get on with her paper.

Sophie puts on her best pout and says, “you owe me H, remember when I ditched my totally hot Valentine’s Day plans to go to the Human Society and hang in the cat colony with you instead?”

Héloïse rolled her eyes. She love-hates this new nickname Sophie has been using during their semester abroad to dig at the gross mispronunciations of her name Héloïse endured daily. “Okay first of all, re-watching Love Actually for the 10,000th time does not count as ‘hot plans’ and second of all you wanted to cuddle the kittens too.” 

Sophie disregards these arguments and deepens the pout, sticking her bottom lip out and clasping her hands beneath her chin, “Please please pleeeeeeeease, the term is half over and we have hardly made any American friends, sometimes it feels like we’re stuck in an island all alone. Plus, it's impossible to get on the setlist with all the regulars and a few of them have bailed for midterms. This is my shot! And I’m- not throwing away my- shot!”

“Oh god not again, I’ll be singing ‘Helpless’ all day now. Fine, I’ll come, but I swear to god if there are any show tunes I’ll walk out immediately.” 

\--

7:30 Wednesday night and the bar is FINALLY filling up. Marianne settles her guitar across her lap and begins tuning. The set has mostly regulars per usual, a few new names as well, and a few stubbornly empty slots. She can only be so angry, however, as she hopes that some of her own students have shut themselves in their rooms to study as well. Lord knows they need it if they’re going to pass Professor Boosheri’s class. She thinks she will actually scream if these American knuckleheads don’t get it through their thick skulls that fully ⅓ of the consonants in the French language are not aspirated. Her head still aches from correcting blundered attempts at discussing a trip to the zoo; the midterm oral presentation topic that she had reviewed with several more dedicated students during office hours that morning. It’s enough to make her wonder if taking the TA position was really worth the free housing. 

There is a soft cough entirely too close to her and Marianne raises her gaze from her pegs. There is a short, extremely short, young woman standing in front of her just at the edge of the stage with dark hair, heavy eyebrows, and a ukulele clutched to her chest. 

“Hello, I am Sophie, you are the host Marianne; yes?” Ah, she’s French too, Marianne thinks and her annoyance at being interrupted during her pre-show ritual evaporates.

“Yes Sophie, I recall your messages,” She watches a smile spread over Sophie’s face as well as she recognizes Marianne as a fellow countrywoman by her accent. “You will be playing ‘Somewhere over the rainbow.’ Do you need accompaniment?”

“No. I will do well on my own, but can you confirm the time? I confess I am feeling nervous.” 

Marianne smiles encouragement at the new performer, then turns and scans the clipboard hanging from a nail on the wall at her shoulder, “There is a gap in the program right before you, so I cannot say which song you will follow, but you have the 9:15 slot as requested.”

Sophie nods and offers brief thanks before placing the ukulele in the line of other instruments resting against the stage and retreating. The tables have been filled since almost 6 o’clock by the dinner crowd, but there are some stools still available along the bar and Marianne’s curious gaze follows Sophie as she navigates toward the end furthest from the door where another woman seems to be waiting for her. Marianne wishes she could have prolonged the conversation, asked for news of Paris. ‘I have been away too long,’ she thinks and makes a mental note to call her grandmother tomorrow. Marianne notices the other woman throwing Sophie pleading glances, her hands extended possessively over the empty stool beside her, as she attempts to shoo away an aspiring Romeo who doesn’t seem to believe the seat is taken. 

The woman’s eyes blaze and her loose honey-colored hair floats around her face like fire in the harsh neon light of the bar signs. Marianne sucks in an involuntary breath, she is stunning. The man seems oblivious to the woman’s discomfort and leans an arm against the bar, not touching the stool, but bringing himself into her orbit. Marianne is surprised he doesn’t combust under the waves of stoic anger that wash off the woman as she tilts back away from him. Marianne half stands from her own chair to go to her defense when Sophie slides tactfully between them. She places a kiss on the edge of the other woman’s mouth and hops up into her lap. The woman pulls her arms off the stool to settle them gently around Sophie instead, holding her securely in place as they whisper conspiratorially.

The man straightens up and says something, which the women ignore. Sophie drags her fingers sensually up the woman’s arm, before resting her hand firmly around her neck, thumb tracing her jaw. The other woman’s eyes shut and she says something inaudible. Their foreheads press together. The man walks away and it is only then that Marianne realizes she has been staring.

\---

Sophie slides off Héloïse’s lap and onto the other stool. 

“I told you it would be the fastest way to get rid of him.” She says, switching back to English as she leans over the bar and attempts to flag down one of the people working behind it. “I do not understand what it is about physical affection that makes American men so damned uncomfortable, but we might as well use it to our advantage.”

Héloïse huffs and glances back up at the stage. The woman Sophie had been talking to is staring at her. Her mouth slightly open, outlined by deep red lipstick, one side dragged up in a barely-there grin. Her short, deep brown hair is wind-blown and her position on stage is awkward, half leaning over her instrument and half standing out of her chair. She drops back down gracefully, her grin spreading as she holds Héloïse’s gaze. Her hair stays in place perfectly coiffed out of her face. ‘What a gift that is,’ Héloïse thinks because she could happily spend a lifetime staring into those hazel eyes that twinkle with- something? Is it amusement or desire? Does she recognize a trick between friends or does she assume it is not a trick and that she and Sophie are together? Does she care if this woman thinks she is taken?

Sophie makes a sound of deep discontent down in the back of her throat and throws herself back down on the stool, dragging Héloïse from her reverie “I cannot do it, they will not look at me, Héloïse help me.” 

Héloïse breaks her connection with the woman on stage and turns to look first at Sophie then at the bartenders flitting like hummingbirds between the shelves, bottles, and patrons. “What makes you think I will be any more successful? It’s packed!”

“Come on we both know you are far prettier than me, now, put your powers to work and get us some beers.”

Sometime later Héloïse is surprised to find she is actually having fun. The bar still sings along with songs they know, but in a much quieter rumble that shows respect for the acoustic style of the karaoke session. It is careful not to overpower the performer, but still show support and appreciation for their song choices. 

Héloïse sways on her stool, the last bars of ‘Landslide’ falling easily from her lips. 

She takes a sip of her beer as the performer exits the stage and checks the watch on her other wrist; 9:11. It is almost time, she looks to Sophie who has a slightly green tinge to her face.

On stage, the host looks at the clipboard at her shoulder and stands. Unusual. Until now she had simply been calling the name of the next performer from her seat off to the left side of the stage. She takes three long strides to stand before the mic at center stage and lets her guitar hang slack around her as she grips the mic stand and begins adjusting it to her height.

“I hope you have all been enjoying yourselves.” The bar erupts in raucous cheers. Héloïse whoops along with them. The host smiles, flashing straight white teeth as she looks around the room, nodding here and there. “My name is Marianne, as some of you know, and I do not usually sing during these events; but there is an empty slot and I do not wish to deprive you.”

More cheers. Sophie makes a sound somewhere between a squeak and a death knell, “I’m going to have to follow her?! We need shots.” She stands on the slat of her stool and waves an arm violently at the nearest bartender. 

Héloïse sets her beer at a safe distance and chuckles good-naturedly at her friend as the host continues, “I initially learned the guitar to impress a girl.” The room whistles and hollers. Héloïse feels her breath leave her as the host’s, Marianne’s, eyes lock on hers, “Perhaps it will impress somebody tonight.”

Marianne strums a few chords then presses the floor pedal, setting them on repeat. She plucks the notes of the melody with deft fingers, stomps on the floor pedal again, and dances up on the mic as she launches directly into a chorus:

I want you to ruin my life  
You to ruin my life, you to ruin my life, yeah  
I want you to fuck up my nights, yeah  
Fuck up my nights, yeah, all of my nights, yeah  
I want you to bring it all on  
If you make it all wrong, then I'll make it all right, yeah  
I want you to ruin my life  
You to ruin my life, you to ruin my life

The crowd erupts in delighted applause and echoes of “I wonder who she’s playing for.” Marianne’s eyes cut back to Héloïse as she slows for the verse and changes some of the lyrics:

I WANT you more than I thought that I could  
I WANT you  
I know you WANTIN’ me too like you should  
I WANT you

You set fire to my world, can I handle the heat  
I’ve been sleepin’ alone and I've started to freeze  
Baby, come bring me hell  
Let it rain over me  
Baby, lean into me, yeah 

Héloïse cannot breathe. Honestly, the kind of sex appeal oozing off the stage should be illegal, its more intoxicating than the alcohol. At the thought of alcohol, Héloïse becomes aware that Sophie has been nudging her more and more insistently with her elbow. She turns and is very displeased by the golden liquor she sees inside the offered shot glass, “Please tell me that is not-“

“Tequila, yes, but at least it is not the rail silver this time. I remembered to ask for gold.”

Héloïse lifts the shot gingerly out of Sophie’s hand as if afraid it might leap out of the glass and start beating her about the head.

“Come back to me, come back to meeeee” Marianne holds a long beautiful note as the friends clink glasses, “I want you to ruin my life, You to ruin my life, you to ruin my life,” the glasses hit the bar top, “I want you to fuck up my nights, yeah, fuck up my nights, yeah, all of my nights, yeah.” Héloïse raises the glass to her lips and finds Marianne’s eyes again, they are shining with confidence and the joy of performance and they burn hotter than the tequila in her throat as she tosses her head back. “I want you to bring it all on, If you make it all wrong, then I'll make it all right, yeah.” The empty glass hits the counter again and Héloïse searches fruitlessly for a lime. “I want you to ruin my life, You to ruin my life, you to ruin my life, yeah.”

Héloïse abandons the hunt and turns back to the stage. The burning sensation spreads everywhere and pools in her stomach as she watches Marianne have her way with the song. It’s not exactly a love song, but damn if it isn’t hot.

The song fades and the bar erupts once more in cheers, Marianne is breathing heavily as she thanks the room and gives a little bow. Then she pulls the guitar strap over her head and sets the instrument on its stand. “Now to slow it down a bit, please welcome a new performer, Sophie!” 

The crowd claps politely and Marianne squeezes Sophie’s arm briefly as they pass on the steps of the stage. Marianne walks with purpose toward the bar, people part on the packed floor to let her through. Héloïse thinks it must be a coincidence that Marianne is now standing beside her because it is about the only empty space on the entire length of the bar when she hears in a breathy undertone, “so were you impressed?”

Héloïse’s face is neutral as she thinks. She does not turn to look at Marianne but keeps her eyes on the stage. Was she impressed? The edges of her mouth curve down in a slight frown. It was a good performance but…"it is not what I expected you to play.”

Marianne raises her eyebrows and shifts her weight. She places her hands on her hips, drawing Héloïse’s attention with the movement. “How so?” she snaps. 

Héloïse feels her mask begin to crackle, “Is that how you see love? Something to “ruin your life’ and ‘fuck up’ your nights?” Damn tequila back to the hell in which it was distilled. When did this become about love?

Marianne recoils visibly and pursues her lips. With her head cocked slightly she rubs the center of her forehead as she mounts her defense. “It is not only me.” She replies.

“What do you mean, it is not only you?”

“There are rules,” She explains, looking at Héloïse again “conventions to lyrics, ideas about what a new crush is like.”

“You mean there is no life? No presence of the subject? Only object and desire.”

“Life is fleeting and so is love.” Marianne bites back, “It is made up of moments that may lack truth. But desire, as you say, forms in an instant and you know it is real. Why not sing about that?”

“Not everything is fleeting. Some feelings are deep and should not be cheapened by the lense of eroticism and entitlement.” Héloïse fears she has revealed too much. She wants to look away but is captivated by the tempest of emotions brewing in Marianne’s eyes. She presses on, “It doesn’t surprise me that the song is not close to my own feeling on this. That I can understand. What surprises me is that it is not close to yours.”

Marianne scowls, “how do you know it is not close to me?” 

Héloïse thinks of the passion she saw in Marrianne while she was on stage. The way she wove her music through the other performers, supporting them, masking their mistakes, helping them find their way to loving music and performance as she did. No, there is tenderness there, and a capacity for deep love beyond this superficial taking of time. However, she does not think she can say any of this, not in an articulate manner, not to a stranger, so instead she shrugs, “perhaps it is, but if that is the case then it is sad.”

“I didn’t know you were an art critic.” Marianne retorts. 

“You don’t even know my name.” 

\--- 

Marianne realizes she's been outmaneuvered. She is unsure of what she expected by coming over, but it wasn’t this. The person before her feels like a one-woman riot and rather than being turned off by her abrasive attitude and unapologetic criticism Marianne longs to prove her wrong. She wishes she could scrub her earlier performance away and start again, but she can’t, words once spoken or sung cannot be erased. 

She realizes she is breathing through her mouth and snaps it shut. Then she gestures toward the stage in frustration and says, “You should go support your girlfriend, it is impossible to see past what is right in front of you when you first begin.” 

Héloïse stands and Marianne is surprised to find they are almost the exact same height, Héloïse even having a slight advantage in her Doc Martens at the moment. At 5’9” Marianne is accustomed to towering over most women and a good number of men too and she is thrown by this switch of position. Everything about Héloïse has Marianne thrown.

“She is not my girlfriend, and if this is the beginning of something then I suggest you be more honest with yourself.” She says not allowing Marianne’s double entendre to go unchecked. Marianne blushes so deeply she feels it touch her ears. Héloïse scans her face one more time and Marianne guesses that she finds what she is looking for because her expression softens and she says, “Try again,” before walking off to stand by the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used is "Ruin My Life" By Zara Larsson


	2. All the Small Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for a party ya'll hold on to your panties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so they don't live on an island, they are at college, and I needed more characters. I have chosen to borrow the female cast of Wynonna Earp and riff on them so do with that information what you will. Also if you read chapter 1 you'll notice a name change from "Kelly" to "Melanie." So Sophie's classmate is Marianne's housemate same same. 
> 
> Also, there's a lot of lyrics at the ends. Sorry not sorry, skip over the jam sesh if it's not your thing.

“What is the supposed point of this holiday again?” Héloïse asked as she slowly tore another section of tape from the dispenser and passed it up to Sophie.

Sophie made an exasperated tsking noise as she took the tape and reached up above her head to apply it to the edge of the shimmering green shamrock. “The point,” she said as she braced herself against the wall and pulled the corner tighter, “is to be drunk.”

Héloïse sighed and steadied her friend with a hand in her lower back, “they do realize that no one outside of America celebrates St. Patrick’s Day right?”

“H we are in America and we haven’t been to a party all semester.” Sophie retorted.

“That is because frat boys are disgusting and Freshman ruin everything.” Sophie rolled her eyes so hard she almost fell off the chair. “Oh come on!” Héloïse argued playfully, “that is the truth no matter what continent you are on.” 

Sophie didn’t dignify her comment with a response so Héloïse picked up another line of complaint instead, “Why are we the ones hanging decorations again?” 

Sophie leaned back to inspect her work, nodded, and climbed down from the chair. She placed both her hands on Héloïse’s shoulders and looked at her friend with squinted eyes. “We are hanging decorations because we agreed as a house to host this thing and also that those who stock and set up do not have to clean up.”

She walked over to the coffee table piled with more decorations waiting to be hung and started twisting green and gold streamers together, “and in the grand scheme of things running to the liquor store and hanging a few shamrocks is the FAR superior task when compared to fishing solo cups out of the bushes and mopping up what one can only hope is beer in the morning so please, less complaining and more taping.”

—-

“Try again”

It had been echoing in Marianne’s mind for days. Such a simple phrase. Two words turned into a gauntlet by flaming eyes and a barely-there smile. Marianne had tried dozens of songs and listened to hundreds more, but nothing felt right for the woman on fire. She just kept hearing “try, try, try again.” Over and over on an endless loop. 

She pulled her guitar out of her lap, the strings making a jarring, discordant sound as her fingers shoved the instrument further away. She stuffed her hands into her hair and she scratched her scalp absently. ‘Think,’ she willed herself ‘think.’ She dragged her arms slowly down to rest her elbows on her knees and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw colorful spots.

Her door creaked open, “You alright?” Melanie asked.

“Merne-flerfl,” Marianne grunted from behind her hands.

Melanie was quiet for a long moment as she took in the discarded guitar and the puddle that was Marianne. “Get dressed.” She said in a tone that would allow no argument, “we’re going to a party.”

—- 

Héloïse was people-watching in the great room, there was no other word for it. She watched as wave after wave of partygoers stepped up to the Beerio Kart challenge by claiming a remote, but she hardly ever looked at the screen. She watched instead as friends shit-talked and couples cuddled and singles flirted. The room was usually her sanctuary, full of bean bags piled up under large windows with calming guitar music tumbling out of the soundbar, but the scene now was the polar opposite of a sanctuary. The converted garage was overflowing with college kids well on their way to drunk lounging across chairs crowded into a U shape around the large wall mounted tv and the sound of the game was clashing gloriously thumping music and shouts from the backyard. 

Héloïse was nursing a drink that was thankfully NOT green and sitting in her favorite corner seat trying not to brood. She wore high-waisted black jeans with tears in the knees and thighs and her trusty Doc Martens. The green crop top she had found at the rerun store proclaimed in bold white letters “Don’t kiss me I’m not Irish.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like parties per se, just that she didn’t know enough people to be swept up in the mayhem.

Another race finished and the boy that won by chugging his entire beer at the outset and then knocking several competitors off the edges of the track as he passed them threw his fists in the air and whooped loudly. His friends took sucker punches at his exposed sides and the large couch devolved into a mini WWE match for several seconds before the boys surfaced laughing raucously. The loser was given a shot of fireball and all 4 competitors were relieved of their remotes and swept off the couch. 

Héloïse scanned the room nervously as people rearranged themself around the tv. Sophie had been sitting by her side, shamelessly encouraging those who lived in the house to crush their guests, but she had left during the second lap for another drink and now Héloïse worried that someone else might take her place. 

Three of the four remotes had already been claimed when Sophie finally walked back through the green tinsel laden doorway. Héloïse relaxed taking another sip of her drink, but perhaps she had celebrated too soon; Sophie was turning and calling to someone over her shoulder that was still obscured by the tinsel. At first, a hand was all that could be seen, reaching out to draw the strands to one side, and then the person stepped into the room. It was Marianne. Héloïse inhaled sharply and beer tickled the back of her nose causing her to collapse into a fit of involuntary coughs. 

Everyone in the room seemed to be staring at her and she vaguely registered the look of surprise on Marianne’s face through the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “You alright there H?” (Kat)herine asked, reaching across the side table to place a concerned hand on her upper arm. Héloïse couldn’t manage more than a nod through the coughing, but it seemed enough to satisfy her housemate.

Sophie shooed Marianne toward the last spot on the couch facing the tv and pressed the final controller into her hand insistently while Héloïse attempted to regain her composure. She was surprised to find she had an uncomfortable feeling in her chest that had nothing to do with the coughing and everything to do with disappointment that Marianne had not sat next to her. For the first time all week, she regretted how hard she had knocked the other woman down at their last meeting and wondered if she should have softened her position to make a better first impression. Sophie plopped down beside her and Héloïse leaned over to hiss in her ear, “Did you know she was coming?”

“No,” Sophie answered through a Cheshire grin she didn’t bother to hide, “but I am very happy about it since you won’t shut up about her.”

“Quiet!” Héloïse scolded in a voice that was anything but. She glanced at Marianne, but the other woman either hadn’t heard or was choosing to ignore them. Her features were delicate like an old-school silver screen movie star and Héloïse easily got caught up in staring. Marianne was wearing sinfully short cut off denim shorts and a loosely fitting cream-colored shirt with rainbow piping around the neck. She had set her closed beer on the table and was tapping buttons experimentally on the remote as the boy next to her explained the controls. Her look of concentration was making Héloïse’s heart do acrobatics.

(Dom)inique had finished pouring the new penalty shot and was calling for the attention of the next wave of players. “Okay the rules are simple: (1) you may not open your beer until the first countdown number appears on the screen (2) you must finish your beer completely before your character crosses the finish line and (3) you must put the remote down on the table before picking up your drink; because drinking and driving is against the law.” There was a chorus of chuckles that answered the last rule. “Oh,” she added as an afterthought, “and whoever comes in last takes the penalty shot, house rule!”

There were claps and cheers from the onlookers and a rather loud, “thanks gonna be you dude!” directed at the boy sitting next to Kat from his buddy on his other side. 

“Alright racers here we- wait, wait a minute.” Dom had been scanning the players about to race when her eyes settled on Marianne, “you’re not wearing any green.”

Marianne looked down at herself as if to confirm this fact then back at Dom, “am I supposed to be wearing green?”

“Well yes,” Dom answered, a sly look crossing her face as she took a step toward Marianne, slowly untying the green and gold handkerchief around her wrist as she walked, “It is St.Patrick's Day and there are consequences if one does not wear green.”

“Consequences?” Marianne asked, sounding more amused than concerned, “what kind of consequences?”

The uncomfortable feeling returned to Héloïse’s chest as she considered the very real possibility that Marianne had not given her a second thought since their meeting on Wednesday, that rather than ruminating in the nature of love and trying to devise a scheme to win over the hard-to-get girl Marianne had instead written her off as someone not worth the trouble.

Dom stalked closer to Marianne, shaking the handkerchief loose and drawing it between her fingers, “Well, traditionally the offender is pinched by all who notice their shortcoming, but I can save you from that fate. For a price?” Her voice picked up on the last syllable turning the statement into a question as she raised an eyebrow.

Marianne grinned in response, reaching up to twist the handkerchief around her first two fingers, “How about a kiss for payment?” She tugged gently on the handkerchief as she spoke and Dom dropped onto her lap, one knee on either side of Marianne’s hips. Dom’s hand not holding the handkerchief connected with the back of the couch and kept her upright as she looked down at her prey.

“Funny that’s exactly what I had in mind,” Dom said just before she crashed their lips together. It started slow, but deep like Dom was testing how into it Marianne actually was. The answer must have been very, because to Héloïse’s horror the intensity of the kiss increased like someone had spun a dial all the way up. She wanted to look away but it was impossible, like being faced with a horrible car crash or a burning building. 

Dom threaded the handkerchief behind Marianne’s neck, pulling her forward by it as they continued to kiss. Marianne ran her hands up Dom’s thighs and chased her lips while the other woman tied the kerchief in a loose knot around her neck. Dom placed her hands on Marianne’s face, holding her gently in place as she pulled away. 

Héloïse saw red and heard Kill Bill sirens blaring in her ears.

—-

Marianne deliberately did not look to her left. She was not sure what expression Héloïse would be wearing after the kiss but she knew whether it was indifference, anger, jealousy, or heartbreak it would haunt her as all of her other looks had. So she kept her eyes on the screen, placed her hands on her beer, and waited for the countdown to begin. 

When the 3 appeared on screen she popped the tab and threw her head way back taking 4 long pulls and draining more than half the beer before finally lowering the can and grabbing her remote. As she took in the screen she realized she was already behind half the field in seventh place. She slammed her thumb into the accelerator and glanced at the other players’ squares; 3rd, 5th, and 11th. Okay, she wasn’t last. She could come back from 7th, she just needed to finish her beer, and then she could fuck shit up. 

The race passed in a blur as she gained and lost ground on the whim of shells and lightning bolts. She finished her beer and flipped the empty can in a small spiral through the air as her character drifted through a jump. It didn’t land upright on the table, but she still enjoyed the illustration to the other players that she was done and was happy to see that it distracted both of the boys. She picked up her remote a final time and jammed the item button igniting the mushroom power-up and zooming ahead. She could taste victory when out of nowhere a blue shell crashed into her character. “Nooo.” She gasped flowing it up with a string of French expletives. She repeatedly tapped the accelerator willing it to respond and watched as her character bounced agonizingly slowly over the finish line. Marianne was stunned to find that Kat had actually passed her during the blue shell explosion and finished 1st. “Nice race!” She shouted across the boys between them that were still trying to finish their final lap. “Do you play often?”

Kat tore her eyes away from Dom who she had been grinning at with pride and said, “yeah, I live here, so you could say that.” 

“Well it was impressive,” Marianne said, “this was my only game growing up and so I am accustomed to winning.” 

Kat laughed, “well it wasn’t my only game but it was my favorite. Nintendo 64?”

“Mmm yes exactly. Want to go again?”

“Nah, it’s best to take a break between rounds unless you want to get fucked real fast.” Marianne’s eyes flicked to Héloïse involuntarily. ‘I might not be opposed to that,’ she thought, but thankfully was able to keep from vocalizing this thought. She noticed that Héloïse’s cup was slightly crumpled in her right hand and that she wore a lopsided frown as she played with the strings of her ripped jeans that crossed her left knee. Before Marianne could think of anything to say to her, however, the boys finally finished the race and immediately lept to their feet, cutting off Marianne’s line of sight. They started making loud excuses about the characters they were stuck with and how much they’d already had to drink, but Dom was unrelenting and presented the one closer to Marianne with the penalty shot, which he took grudgingly before the boys stormed back through the tinsel curtain.

“Got anything for me, darling?” Kat asked Dom with desire in her eyes. 

“Mmm no shot for the winner, maybe you should lose on purpose one of these days,” Dom said with a wink.

“It’s not a shot I’m after.” Kat countered.

Dom just laughed, shaking her head as she walked away.

“Hate to see her go, but love to watch her leave,” Kat muttered to Marianne.

“Women.” Marianne agreed, resisting the urge to look at Heloise again,” I hope I didn’t get in your way there?” 

“No, no, I’ve been trying to convince her to go out with me for YEARS. She was sure she was straight when we first met and then after her ‘gay awakening’ she decided my heart eyes were a little too much. One day though-“ Katherine picked up her beer, forgetting it was empty, rattled the empty can and made a face before setting it back down, “one day she’ll come around.” 

Just then Melanie poked her head into the room, “Hey losers,” she shouted, “come play filp cup!” 

—-

Flip cup went horribly for Marianne. She was placed at the front of the line and found herself draining 5 cups before her side was finally able to win a round and excuse themselves from the table. Héloïse watched her from the other side of the bonfire, unable to bring herself to go closer. After making her escape Marianne came down off the deck to the fire as well but she stayed on the other side content to chat with Kat and make meaningful, or not meaningful, eye contact with Héloïse across the flames. 

Before long they were all summoned back to the deck for a round of slap cup. An entire case of Whiteclaw was emptied into the cups at the center of the table and the taller, plastic stein in the middle was filled with green “jungle juice” from the punch bowl and a disturbing amount of extra shots. 

Slap cup also did not go well for Marianne. It seemed like everyone that one-shotted their cup was passing it back to her. Héloïse lost count of the cups she had to drink to keep the game going and was alarmed to see Marianne’s skill slipping. She started steadying herself with her free hand and diving wildly after the ball when she missed, which was happening more and more frequently. Finally, the game was down to two cups in the middle and the balls had been separated from one another. Héloïse was thanking the party gods for this turn of luck when Melanie allowed the ball to bounce off the table. She dove underneath to collect it but moved too slowly. The other cup caught up to her. She sunk the ball on her next shot and passed the cup to Dom just before the next cup was passed to her. She one-shotted and laughed gleefully as she slapped the other cup from in front of Dom, “I guess we finally know who the better sister is.” She teased. 

“Shut up,” Dom said as she grabbed the second to last cup from the center. “I could have gotten you just as bad if our positions were switched, now are you gonna pass that cup on or just stand there looking stupid?”

“Shit,” Melanie said before setting the cup and ball down in front of Marianne. 

“Eh! No!” Marianne exclaimed as she fished the ball out of the cup and began trying to bounce it in. 

Dom finished draining her cup and lined up the shot. One bounce- over. Second bounce- in. She slapped the cup in front of Marianne and the whole table burst into explosive celebration at the thrilling end to the game. 

Héloïse watched Marianne cover her face in despair. She was handed the death cup, green punch sloshing over the edges. Marianne looked slightly green herself and tried to reason with Kat, Sophie, and the sisters as they demanded that she chug it. Héloïse bit her lip and tried to keep to herself, but she knew how her friends could be and felt honor-bound to intervene. 

“Hey tiger, why don’t you wait on that for a bit and help me get this party going?”

“Init already going?” Marianne asked with only a slight slur to her speech. Their shoulders bumped, Héloïse leaned into the touch offering support. “Yeah it's going, but we can turn it up to 11.”

“Hold up H,” Kat said, “you know the house rules, she's gotta chug it!” 

“I’ll make you a deal,” Heloise said, “You bend the rules, let her sip it, and I’ll sing. Unless you’d rather mop up green vomit?”

Kat gave Marianne a long look up and down as if trying to weigh how likely it was that she would actually vomit then pursed her lips, “You’d actually sing?”

“If you’re singing I’m playing,” Marianne chimed in. 

This made Kat chuckle and seemed to make up her mind for her, “okay I’ve got to see that, deal.”

Héloïse let out a short breath as if steeling herself against what she had just agreed to do. “Okay you grab chairs and I’ll go get my guitar.” 

“Two guitars!” Marianne ordered, sloshing more of the death cup’s contents onto the deck. 

“Great idea! I’ll get mine too.” Sophie said. 

“Not helping,” Héloïse scolded her friend as they rushed inside. 

“What faster way is there to fall in love than to sing together?” Sophie asked, wagging her eyebrows at Héloïse, “I am TOTALLY helping.” 

When they returned to the deck minutes later Marianne was sitting in a folding white chair, sipping slowly from the death cup, eyes glassy, gazing toward the fire. 

Héloïse hooked her acoustic/electric guitar up to the speakers already set up on the deck and settled into the second chair. 

“You had a Fender and you played ukulele!? You’ve been holding out on me!” Marianne exclaimed making grasping motions in the air with her arms fully extended toward Sophie’s guitar. 

“Yes I do have Fender, now swear to me you won’t drop it.”

“I’m cool, I’m cool,” Marianne assured, straightening her posture. Sophie lowered the instrument into her lap gingerly and started hooking it up, Marianne already picking at the strings testing the sound. She hummed her approval and started riffing a few songs. Héloïse found herself thinking ‘swoon.’

“Marianne,” she called softly. The other woman's eyes snapped to her and her fingers stilled on the guitar, “what is your favorite song? Something you could play forward and backward in your sleep.”

“Marianne” the woman repeated her own name thoughtfully, “you know what I’ve just realized?” She started playing a Shawn Mendes melody as she spoke:  
And I don't even know your name  
All I remember is that smile on your face  
And it'll kill me every day  
'Cause I don't even know your name  
Ooh everywhere that I go  
I'll see your face and it kills me to know  
That you never know what you did to me  
And now you were gone, yeah I can't stop thinkin' about you

Marianne struck the last notes of the chorus harshly and stilled the strings tilting the headstock of the guitar toward Héloïse as she finished. The partygoers exploded with “ooh shit”s and “dayyyyyyumn”s.

“You’ve been thinking about me huh?” Héloïse asked.

“But you’re never gonna know that,” Marianne quipped as she rolled a bit in her chair bringing a finger to her lips in a shushing motion.

Héloïse laughed, ‘okay, she thought, okay let’s do this.’ She started plucking a new favorite of hers by Liv Dawson:  
So you’ve been think about me  
'Cause I've been thinking about you  
To be honest, baby, it's the only thing I've been up to  
I told you the truth  
I like you, I like you

Let me throw my arms around you  
'Cause I can't hold it in anymore  
All night I've been hiding from you  
I won't make the same mistake as before  
I don't want to wake up in the morning  
Think of all the things I could have said tonight  
Guess I'm gonna say it to you right now-  
I like you, I like you

She stilled her own strings leaning her guitar back toward Marianne in turn. The other woman was grinning from ear to ear. The crowd around them was laughing and clapping overjoyed by the exchange.

“I like you, I like you,” Marianne mimicked the dictation of the song then added, “you still haven’t told me your name.”

“You still haven’t told me your favorite song.”

“Mmm,” Marianne hummed nonchalantly. “Name first.”

“Driiiiink!” Kat hollered from the sidelines. Marianne reached down and took a sip from the death cup, making a truly horrendous face in response. She set it gently back down on the deck. Raising her hands into the hair like an athlete amping up the crowd. They happily obliged by cheering a whooping. 

“Name.” Marianne said again firmly.

“Héloïse, my name is Heloise.”

“Héloïse? Then why do your friends call you H?” 

“More!” shouted the partygoers, “play more!”

Héloïse shook her head and said, “because my friends aren’t French, except for Sophie of course. Now, your favorite song?”

Marianne crumpled her face as if contemplating the reasoning behind the nickname was the most important thing in the world, but the crowd was restless so Héloïse turned away from Marianne and called out, “Does anyone have a cup?” Then started tapping out the beat of ‘the cup song’ on the body of her guitar. 

There were cheers and many people chugged their drinks to free up their cups so that htey could join in. “I got my ticket for the long way 'round- Two bottle 'whiskey for the way. And I sure would like some sweet company and I'm leaving tomorrow, wha-do-ya say?.” Héloïse began. 

Marianne started strumming the melody and cut in, “When I'm gone, When I'm gone, You're gonna miss me when I'm gone.” 

Héloïse continued tapping out the beat and they weaved their voices in and out of each other as the song progressed. When they finished Marianne laughed, “that was a good one, but I thought you said we were turning it up to 11?”

“Oh not rock and roll enough for you?” Héloïse asked playfully, “What do you have in mind?” 

Without further ado, Marianne started strumming a rhythm. “Really?” Héloïse asked, “Blink 182?” 

Marianne started banging her head, tossing her short hair around before looking back at Héloïse, “Whatza matter can’t keep up?”

Héloïse sucked on her teeth to hide a smile, adjusted a few of the electronics on her guitar and jumped in with the lyrics perfectly in time with Marianne:  
All the small things  
True care truth brings  
I'll take one lift  
Your ride, best trip  
Always I know  
You'll be at my show  
Watching, waiting  
Commiserating

Say it ain't so, I will not go  
Turn the lights off, carry me home  
Na-na, na-na, na-na, na-na, na, na

Sophie finally turned away from the impromptu jam sesh walking down the check on the bonfire. If their first child wasn’t named after her she was going to sue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the last song of the jam sesh  
> All the Small Things by Blink 182
> 
> Other songs mentioned in order of appearance  
> I don't even know your name- Shawn Mendes  
> I like you- Liv Dawson  
> The Cup Song/When I'm gone -Anna Kendrik


	3. Say Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to our favorite bar after some much anticipated post-party teasing. Songs used are all mentioned in the text by name this time if you haven't heard them before hop your happy asses over to YouTube and give a listen I am currently OBSESSED with the chapter title song "Say Love." We're finally going to get more one-on-one interaction in the next chapter although you get a little state of hit here. ENJOY MY LOVELIIES <3

Marianne wakes up slowly. She becomes aware of things in stages. She is laying on a pillow that is not hers. It is the firm-soft of foam rather than the soft-crunchy of the feathers that fill all pillows on her own bed and it smells like...something? Something good that she doesn’t have a name for. She kicks her feet around experimentally with her eyes still closed. She appears to be alone in bed. Her body also feels like a sandbag, a bruised sandbag, why does her left knee hurt? And why...why is she wearing a backpack? She cracks one eye open. This is definitely not her room. It is a soft periwinkle blue and the wall opposite her is mostly taken up by a closet that is missing its doors. She tucks her chin in a little to take in the wall at her feet. There is a large tapestry of a mandala in cool colors tacked up and a student’s desk complete with a hutch overflowing with textbooks. There are no immediate clues as to who the room belongs to and the door is shut. She is alone. 

She groans and tries to roll on to her back. She is stopped by the backpack. ‘Why am I wearing a backpack!?’ She thinks again more insistently. She drags her right arm up, slides it out of the loop then uses it to press herself slightly off the bed to free her other arm. She drops back down and drags the backpack onto her stomach. Upon inspection, it is a plain tan canvas, covered with patches and pins, and two towels stick out of the top. She had been turtled. She’d heard of students doing this to one another when they thought someone might be drunk enough to vomit in their sleep. Death by vomit. At least she’d been spared from that, but maybe she had been sick? It would explain why she wasn’t wearing a shirt.

She dropped the backpack to the floor and closed her eyes again trying to piece the night together. Melanie had introduced her to the classmate that had invited her to the party...Sophie. Sophie had brought her to play Beerio Karts, the girl from the bar was there. She had not made out with the girl from the bar, there had been another girl…Dominique. She had stood around a fire with a new friend...Kat. She had played slap cup- horrid game. Had she sung? She tapped the thumb of her right hand against each of her fingers feeling the callouses from her guitar strings. If she had played it wasn’t for long, there was no residual pain like she was accustomed to after long shows like the karaoke nights. Must have been a dream. 

She opened her eyes again slowly. She stared at the ceiling for a few beats then rolled back onto her side, looking for a nightstand. There was a long, low bookshelf instead, but her phone was there plugged into a charger as was a tumbler of water and a bottle of Tylenol. ‘God bless you whoever you are,’ Marianne thought as she reached for the bottle. She scanned the label for the dosage, counted out three pills, then pushed herself upward and grabbed the cup of water. She took the pills, finished the water, and placed the empty cup back on the bookshelf. 

Next to her phone Marianne now noticed a small polaroid from one of the new instant cameras. Holding her breath she picked it up to inspect it. She was sitting on the edge of a white folding chair facing the girl from the bar, string lights were twinkling around the deck railing behind them giving them a soft glow. They were both smiling and playing guitar. ‘Man she’s gorgeous,’ Marianne thought, ‘I guess it wasn’t a dream then.’ Below the picture in blue cursive letters was one word: Heloise. 

She checked her phone. There were several text message bubbles on the lock screen. She groaned and typed in her code. The first message was from Melanie, “Took Dom home, try not to sleep with anyone before I get back.” ‘Yikes,’ Marianne thought. The second message was from an unsaved number and read “Hello self this is Kat’s number,” followed by, “you coming up or what?” ‘Mega yikes,’ Marianne thought. 

She ignored the other app notifications and pushed herself gingerly to her feet. She tested her balance, ‘okay, not still drunk, just hella hungover.’ She put her phone and the polaroid into her pocket- NOT HER POCKET! She looked down at the oversized basketball shorts she was wearing in alarm. They were black with white piping and hung down to her knees. “Oh god, what did I do?” she asked the shorts. No response. While looking down she noticed a nicely folded shirt with a note scrolled in the same blue cursive on a sheet of torn-out notebook paper: ‘don’t be a dick and go through my drawers, wear this.’ She shook out the shirt, it was plain white except for the black graphic of a skeleton holding up the hand sign for rock n roll. She pulled it on then walked slowly over to the mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door. No hickies, that’s a win. She ran her fingers through her hair a few times in an attempt to tame her bed head into a slightly more presentable arrangement then she opened the door. 

\---

Heloise was sitting at the kitchen table sipping her coffee when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She didn’t expect anyone of her half-dead housemates to raise for at least another hour, but maybe the smell of fresh coffee had jump-started the process. She raised her eyes from her book ready to tease whichever of the unfortunates it was. 

It was Marianne. Of course it was Marianne. Her hair was stiff but combed back over her head in a style that vaguely reminded Heloise of the T-birds and she looked like hell. Heloise allowed a lopsided grin to cross her face and said, “You’re a bit of a lightweight you know. I thought being a grad student and all you would have developed a better tolerance.”

Marianne froze midstride, “Heloise.” She breathed, “I- eh...I have developed a tolerance to some things, but that green murder in a glass you served last night is not one of them.” 

Heloise laughed out loud at the unexpected morning wit and almost spilled her coffee in the process. Marianne collected herself, a proud smile spreading across her face as she took the final step off the staircase into the kitchen/dining room. She hesitated for a moment then moved away from Heloise toward the coffee pot instead, “cup?”

“The cabinet just above.” Heloise watched quietly as Marianne made herself coffee. She rubbed her left fist into her eye and poured herself a cup, glancing at Heloise with her unobstructed eye. Heloise allowed herself to be examined in return, keeping her face neutral as she picked up her book again. Marianne put the pot back on the hot plate and turned away to fish creamer out of the fridge. Heloise couldn’t help but look at Marianne’s ass as she conducted her search and decided to tease the other woman a little more, “you look good in my clothes by the way.” 

Marianne jolts just a little, enough to bang her arm on the fridge shelf and illicit a string of French curses. Heloise chuckles, ‘I really should be nicer to her.’ She thinks as she watches Marianne extract herself from the fridge. She held the Irish cream flavored coffee-mate in one hand and was rubbing her right elbow. “I should thank you I guess,” she said, “but I woke up without a shirt so I must first question your chivalry.”

Heloise grinned, thinking back to last night. She closed her book and pointed it at Marianne for emphasis, “that my dear is because you were- and here she added air quotes- too damn hot -end air quote- for any of the shirts we tried to put on you, even though we made an excellent case for Kat’s Abby Wambach jersey and you ALMOST agreed.” 

Marianne laughed to herself, presumably at the memory, as she poured the creamer into her cup. ‘I could spend forever making her laugh,’ Heloise thought; followed quickly by, ‘Jesus pump the breaks, she had her tongue down another girl’s throat last night.’ 

Marianne took a sip of her coffee trying to gauge the flavor and gave a short nod, “and am I remembering correctly,” she began as she abandoned the creamer on the counter and walked around the peninsula to join Heloise at the table, “that I was in need of something to wear because a frat-star pegged me with a football and drenched my favorite t-shirt in the liquid death or was that- and I’m really hoping it was- a horrible dream.” 

“No you’ve got that right,” Heloise said, turning to face Marianne and letting their knees brush under the table, “tell me you also remember practically launching yourself off the deck to attempt murder in response.” 

“Oh god,” Marianne croaked as she flattened herself into a puddle in the tabletop, holding her coffee cup aloft like a white flag. Heloise filed away a mental picture to cherish forever. 

“Don’t be too upset,” She said, trying to soothe the other woman, “Champ was not actually invited to the party and Dom would have been happy to watch you pummel him.” She made an unsavory face at the memory of how Champ had treated his ex-girlfriend after finding out she was bisexual and thought for a moment that Kat probably should have let Marianne land one hit before intervening, “but through a combination of a banged knee on liftoff and surprising agility on his part, no damage was done. Plus, I worked a miracle on your shirt While you crashed in my room. We just need to grab it from the dryer when you’re ready.” 

Marianne turned her head sideways, pressing her cheek into the cold wood and looking up pitifully at Heloise. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover,” she groaned. 

Heloise reached out, realized she was about to stroke Marianne’s face and redirected to pat her shoulder instead. “You’re young you’ll bounce back.” 

—-

Marianne watched her phone screen go black again and let out a frustrated exclamation. It had been two days since the party, one day since the gloriously awful morning after when she had gotten Heloise’s phone number and approximately 28 minutes of sitting and staring at the blank text message bubble trying to decide what to say. She knew the ball was in her court. Heloise looked out for her at the party, Heloise had given her her number when Marianne finally left the next day, and Heloise was probably sitting in her own room wondering why she hadn’t texted yet.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, just that so much tone and nuance was lost through a text message that she wasn’t exactly sure how to flirt this way. Her friends would probably tell her to string together a half dozen emojis and leave it at that, but doesn’t that create TOO much nuance?! 

She unlocked the screen AGAIN, to stare at the blank message bubble AGAIN when a text mercifully came through from Kat. ‘Saved by the bell,’ Marianne thought as she quickly tapped the message. It read, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said around the fire, about me and Dom and how I need to make her realize that I’m serious about her and show her that I do want something meaningful. Will you help me?”

Marianne blinked. Read the message again, and heaved a deep sigh. She was pretty sure she had been staring into Heloise’s eyes across the flames and ranting about the karaoke ultimatum rather than offering advice on Kat’s not-so-unrequited-love for Dominique, but if the shoe fits…Marianne types up a quick response: “anything for love, what do have in mind?” 

The response was lightning fast like it had already been typed just waiting to send, “I want to sing for her.”

Two days later Marianne was back at the bar, the aphrodisiac oyster shack, reviewing her setlist. She was trying to avoid staring at Kat, Dom, Melanie, Sophie, and Heloise all eating dinner together. They had come in exactly at 6 when the doors opened and taken the table right in front of the stage. They’d eaten at a lazy pace working their way through fried oysters, burgers, and an alarming number of fries. They were all drinking beers end to end, except Kat, who had agreed at Marianne’s urging to remain sober until after performing. The bar had slowly filled up around them and now at a quarter to 8 Kat was beginning to fidget. It is almost showtime. Kat wiped her mouth with a napkin and came over to the stage to chat with Marianne. 

“We’ll begin soon right?’

“Yeah” Marianne confirmed, “Just 15 minutes to go now, how do you feel?”

“Like I need a shot.” 

Marianne chuckled, “It will be over before you know it. Just remember to breathe and keep your eyes on her and you’ll be fine.”

“Right, right.” Kat, swallowed hard, “I’m still not sure about this mash-up though, it might have been better to go with one song.” 

“Pitch perfect is or is not her favorite movie?” Marianna asked pointedly. 

“It is but-” 

“She’s going to love it, Kat, it’s perfect. She’ll see the work you put in and she’ll love it” Marianne coaxed, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. Marianne was about to add additional reassurances when there was a loud scraping sound from just over Kat’s shoulder. She looked up to find Heloise had gotten abruptly to her feet. They made brief eye contact before the other woman moved like a hurricane over to the bar. 

Surely Heloise didn’t think she’d asked her to come tonight just to watch her put the moves on another woman? Surely by now, Heloise realized that Marianne had fallen like a rock; hard and fast into the well that is her ocean eyes. 

Marianne pushed Heloise and what she may or may not be feeling at that moment out of her mind. She had a show to do, a show that was very important to her new friend, and right now that deserved all of her attention. She refocused on Kat and said, “go to the bathroom, put some cold water on your neck- neck only don't mess up your makeup- then do one run through and come back to me. We can start a little early your girl is already here,” she said with a wink. 

“My girl,” Kat said as she shook her head absentmindedly, “Man I hope she will be.” 

Marianne watched her walk away and started running through her tune-up, occasionally letting her eyes drift to Heloise’s back. She didn’t turn around once. When she finished, Marianne set her guitar aside in its stand and grabbed a stool from the back corner of the stage. She brought it back over by her chair, placing it between the audience and herself. She sat back down then adjusted the microphone from its usually lower position near her guitar to something more convenient for singing. Finally, Kat reappeared. 

“You ready?”

“Yeah,” 

Kat picked an electric guitar from the front of the line by the stage and Marianne started the show. “Good evening you inglorious bastards!” The crowd instantly unleashed thunderous applause, stamping their feet and banging on tables. From the kitchen, there was a chorus of cowbells. Marianne smiled and thought, ‘God I love this bar.’ Then she continued, “Before we begin our traditional karaoke night there’s something very special I want to share with you.” There were wolf whistles and more applause, “This is Kat, she has something she’s been trying to say to someone in her life and you know what live by around here: if you can’t say it-”

“SING IT!!” the crowd hollered 

“That’s right, sing it.” Marianne waited while the room laughed and cheered themselves a bit, plucking a few notes. When they quieted down she nodded to Kat who said, “Dominique, would you please join us on stage?”

More whistles and cheers, more cowbells from the kitchen. Dominique looked a little shocked, but she stood with a smile. She pointed to her sister a few times as she walked toward the stairs. Melanie was holding both of her hands in the air, probably insisting that she had nothing to do with this, while Sophie began recording. When Dom reached the top of the stairs Marianne patted the stool next to her. 

“This was all her,” Marianne said, turning away from the mic to keep her comments private, “try to listen with your heart.” 

Marianne nodded to Kat again and the other woman started to play. Their plan involved three songs. It had taken some skill to mix them together, but the effect would hopefully be worth it. After a few bars Kat started with the lyrics of Ellie Goulding’s Still Falling:

And just like that  
All I breathe  
All I feel  
You are all for me  
I'm in  
And just like that  
All I breathe  
All I feel  
You are all for me  
No one can lift me, catch me the way that you do  
I'm still falling for you

Marianne jumped in, cutting across the simple love song with a different almost discordant chorus of James TW’s Say Love: 

Just don't say love, say love, say love, say love, no  
I've heard that word misused a thousand times before

I know that we don't have to dive in  
'Cause we got all of the time in the world  
To say love, say love, say love, say love

Kat cut back in as they had planned and the songs started weaving together:  
It took us a while  
'Cause we were young and unsure  
With love on the line

Just don't say love, say love, say love, say love, no  
I've heard that word misused a thousand times before

What if we both would need more  
But all your flaws and scars are mine  
Still falling for you

Just don't say love, say love, say love, say love, no  
I've heard that word misused a thousand times before

Still falling for you  
Still falling for you

They stilled their strings, the whole bar seemed to be holding its breath. Then they launched into the final song Accidentally In Love by the Counting Crows: 

How much longer will it take to cure this  
Just to cure it cause I can't ignore it if it's love (love)  
Makes me want to turn around and face me but I don't know nothin 'bout love

Come on, come on  
Turn a little faster  
Come on, come on  
The world will follow after  
Come on, come on  
'Cause everybody's after love...

The bar started singing along and smiling, even Dom was echoing little ‘I’m in love’s but Marianne had eyes for only one person. Heloise had turned around at the bar. Her eyes were shining with something unnamable, untouchable, maybe it was love. Marianne kept their eye contact strong as she sang, trying to put as much feeling as possible into each ‘I’m in love.’ She hoped it was enough.


	4. The one in which I apologize for a long hiatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick one-shot with a little juice, stay tuned two more full chapters coming your way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, to say these past two weeks have been a shit storm would be the understatement of a century. Picture burst water pipes, the broken car breaks, helping my grandma getting her house ready for sale, oh, and a full-time job. Anyway, life is back to what passes for normal these days and so too should be the updates. Chapters are usually 4 scenes (2 each for Marianne and Heloise), but I had this scene ready to go so I've polished it up as a peace offering. You'll notice the chapter count has been upped by 1 to compensate as well. Hope you catch the movie tie ins and as always, please enjoy -Empire

Héloïse wondered if it was stupid waiting around for last call. For one, bars at 2 am were not her thing (really anywhere at 2 am was not her thing) and for two, she wasn’t sure Marriane still wanted her there even if she had texted to ask her to come to karaoke night.

Marianne’s set finished hours ago and she had immediately gone to help behind the bar without so much as a word to Héloïse. It is insane how good she looked shaking Martinis- hello biceps- and she did this adorable little eyebrow raise when she was totally surprised what the person in front of her was ordering and really Héloïse shouldn’t be noticing any of this because they were barely friends. 

The performance with Kat had been phenomenal, the way they had weaved the songs together, adding Dom to the narrative without speaking for her, how they’d brightened it all up at the end with the confident, playful “accidentally in love” it was perfect. The lovebirds had left shortly afterward, presumably to talk things out and Héloïse really, really hoped that they wound up finding their way together. She also couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. She had felt a real connection playing with Marianne on St. Patrick’s Day that she didn’t like to think the other woman could build with just anyone. 

She picked absently at the label on her empty beer bottle, contemplating leaving for the umpteenth time that night. Then her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text from Marianne- turn around. 

She swiveled in her chair and found, standing behind her, Marianne grinning from ear to ear with two beers and a massive basket of onion rings. “You stayed,” the other woman commented, looking a little shy, “I’m so glad.”

Héloïse smiled back breathing in the mouth-watering scent of the onion rings, “I’m glad you could finally get away, please sit.”

Marianne put the basket on the table between them then placed one beer in front of Heloise, it was the same as the one she had just finished and put the other in front of the empty seat next to her before dropping down heavily into the chair. Héloïse watched as she squeezed the lime wedge down the neck of her beer and took a long pull, the way Marianne's neck moved with each swallow was criminal.

“Corona?” She asked just to have something to say.

“Mmmm” Marianne hummed and finally set the beer back on the table half-finished. “Mexican beer and gold tequila, it’s the only way to survive here.” 

Héloïse grinned and said, “I agree completely.”

Marianne gave her another appraising look as if she was trying to store every detail of Héloïse’s face away for future reference, “so were you impressed?” 

Héloïse didn’t miss the allusion to their first meeting and her challenge to try again. “Yes,” she said with a smile. She looked down at her new beer and started picking at that label too as she continued, “the mash-up was perfect and the message was honest about how you can both be afraid of love, or at least afraid that it isn’t as real as you think, and accidentally find yourself in it anyway. It was perfect for them” 

Marianne reached out and laid a soft hand on her wrist, “It wasn’t just for them.” 

Héloïse looks at Marianne’s hand for a moment, then reaches out tracing each finger gently with her own. “Have you ever imagined something so much that you’re not sure if it’s a dream or a memory?” She asked wistfully.

“You dreamt about me?” 

“No,” Héloïse clarified as she raised her hand to Marianne’s neck flowing the line of her muscles up to her jaw and stopping short of touching her lips by sheer force of will. She leaned forward, nuzzling Marianne’s temple with her nose as she whispered, “I thought of you.” 

She felt Marianne shutter and swallow hard, which made her own blood sing. She pulled back again, looking into Marianne’s eyes. She felt like there was a veil between them, one she wished they could pull down and surge through. “I’d like you to kiss me.” She said tenderly. 

Marianne half laughed half whined as she answered, “I’d like you to kiss me too.”

Héloïse curled her hand around the back of Marianne’s neck, pulling gently and bringing their lips together. It was soft at first, warm, and impossibly sweet. Héloïse sifted slightly deepening the kiss and moving her fingers into the hair at the nape of Marianne’s neck.

“Marianne!” 

The other woman whips around so fast she leaves Héloïse looking like a cartoon character kissing her silhouette in the empty air. “Hein?” the strangled sound squeaks out of Marianne’s throat, but she reaches down below the table and squeezes Héloïse’s knee reassuringly. 

“Put a pin in that and lock up your amps so we can all go home eh?” A large man in an apron hollers from behind the kitchen window.

“Heard!” Marianne shouted back and the women watched as he walked back into the depths of the kitchen shaking his head. 

Marianne turned back to Héloïse with a sheepish smile, “enjoy the onion rings I won’t be long and then we can get out of here- I mean if you want- I mean you don’t have to wait I can call you- I-”

Héloïse leaned in again, silencing Marianne’s stuttering with another kiss, strong and quick, “I’ll wait.”


	5. Never Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments and songs. We're doing a little time hopping friends buckle up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it will turn out all right; eat some chocolate <3

The rest of the semester bleeds away like time only does when you know it is limited, but moments stand out for the rest of their lives brought to life again in an instant by the notes of cherished songs…

March 16th.  
Marianne sat on her couch surrounded by other residents of the French House and students from various sections of French 101 and 102 classes. As a part of her TA position she was given free room and board at the French House (which wasn’t really a house, but rather a floor in one of the oldest dormitories on campus that had rooms branching off abnormally large shared living spaces flanking a kitchen like an unfortunate amoeba) in exchange for overseeing some extra credit/cultural activities. There were dinners, book clubs, poetry discussions, board game nights, and movie viewings and each event required the students participating to abide by the general house rule: only French is to be spoken within the walls. 

Tonight she was set up on the side set up as a living room with many couches and armchairs arranged in a large U-shape around a tv waiting to begin a scheduled French-language viewing of Mama Mia: Here We Go Again. She had the movie cued up, popcorn had been liberally distributed, and the students had signed themselves in on the professor’s attendance sheet. Still something- or rather someone- was missing. 

Marianne stalled my asking, “Who can describe the main character?” Hands hit the air, “no no,” she scolded, “no hands we are not in the classroom, speak freely, but for the sake of practice let us keep it to one sentence at a time.” 

One of the students she didn’t recognize began, “She’s a young woman that has blond hair.” Marianne nods in approval. After a brief hesitation, another student adds, “At the start of the movie she will graduated college.” “mm will graduate,” Marianne corrects gently, “again.” The student nods and repeats, “at the start of the movie she will graduate college.” “good” Marriane praises, “next.” She continues to listen, but her gaze drifts away from the students to the door. It remains closed. 

A few minutes pass and after they have exhausted the topic of Donna, Marianne asks them to describe the island. Still the door remains closed. Marianne checks her phone. No messages. It is 7:15 and the students are getting restless. With a deep sigh, she reaches for the remote and presses play. The studio music blares over the speakers as she settles back into her seat. Disappointed, she looks down at the empty place on the loveseat beside her, and consoles herself that there must be a good reason for Héloïse’s silent absence. The title credits begin and finally the door in the other living space, which is set up as a dining/study area on the far side of the kitchen, bursts open revealing the blonde. 

There are delighted shrieks from the two girls working through a translation with another TA near the do and they go to their knees with exclamations of, “what a scrumptious nugget,” and “how old is she?” and “oh my god the literal cutest dog!” 

“In French, please!” the other TA scolds exasperated, pressing his thumb and first finger to the bridge of his nose. 

Marianne is on her feet to investigate and finds a thoroughly disgruntled looking Héloïse holding the leash of a truly minuscule Jack Russell Terrier puppy that is wearing an electric purple harness. Her hair is tied up in a bun, or at least it used to be, half of it now flys free in a halo around her head and she is flushed as though she may have been running.  
“Héloïse,” Marianne exhales, relieved that no harm had become her, “what on earth are you doing with a dog?”

“She belongs to Alberto, he just got her this week to celebrate his job offer, and she keeps eating EVERYTHING! She cannot be left alone in the house. I was only supposed to watch her until 6 I swear, but he got pulled into a double shift and no one else came home so I- er I just put her in my basket and brought her. I know animals aren’t strictly allowed in the dorms, but she’s just visiting so…please don’t be angry I really wanted to see you.” Héloïse hardly took a breath during the whole explanation and she seemed like she had been rehearsing the speech her whole way over. “Also I’m sorry I’m late,” she added with a sheepish grin. 

“It’s alright.” Marianne said with a tender smile, “I’d say it’ll be our secret, but I’m sure it will be spread through the entire foreign language department by tomorrow morning.”

They both laughed nervously looking down at the tiny puppy that was trying to jump its way up into one the kneeling girls’ laps. “Come,” Marianne said, reaching out to take Héloïse’s hand “let’s go sit.” 

As Marianne reenters the living room the students erupt into squeals of delight and phone cameras are brought out from every direction. They do their best to ask questions in French, which Marianne slowly and meticulously helps them reconstruct as they take turns petting and holding the pup. Finally, as the general raucous dies down a girl from Marianne’s Tuesday 9 am section asks, “Does she live here too? I believed pets were not permitted, but if they are, I will DEFINITELY be living in the French House next year.” 

“No they are not and she does not live here,” Marianne answered, looking over at Héloïse with a smile. She seemed to be spending a lot of time smiling these days. The past three weeks had been amazing and although they only ever sang the word “love” Marianne was sure she was in it. “She is my- eh, my Héloïse.” 

“Your Héloïse?” The girl repeated, confused, clearly trying to match the word to some kind of translation rather than recognizing it as a name. 

Héloïse herself laughed, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she addressed the girl, “She means girlfriend.” Marianne’s heart burst with joy and pride hearing the word for the first time. “I am Héloïse, her girlfriend.” There was some murmuring at that, but Marianne didn’t care, her Héloïse was her girlfriend, the wattage on her smile would have put the sun to shame. 

Heloise lifted the dog onto the loveseat beside her, effectively ending the conversation, and everyone redirected their attention to the TV as the ending notes of “When I Kissed the Teacher” played on screen. Héloïse curled easily into Marianne’s side, lifting up her left arm to drape it around her shoulders, and watched as the puppy circled then plopped down in the crook of her folded knees. Marianne watched her watch the dog and when Héloïse turned to look back at her their noses were practically touching. “I hope I didn’t just out you to all your students,” Héloïse whispered, looking slightly concerned. 

“Please,” Marianne said, her tone full of amusement, as she softly rubbed the tips of their noses together in an Eskimo kiss, “I look about as straight as Ashlyn Harris, I just didn’t want to assume.” 

Héloïse placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Marianne’s mouth then laid her head on her shoulder and said, “Well, now you know, I am yours.”

“And I am yours,” Marianne answered, squeezing her tight and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

ABBA was the soundtrack to the definning of their relationship. 

\---

March 27th.  
Late at night in Héloïse’s living room she, Marianne, and Sophie are playing slapjack and Marianne is drawing her cards agonizingly slowly. Héloïse’s drink goes ignored as she is drawn in by the flow of the game. Another 10! She jumps forward- no no no! She tries to pull back, but her fingers brush the cards. 

“I win! You touched it!” Sophie preens. 

“No, no!!” Héloïse protests, this time aloud, throwing her hands in the air although she already knows she was wrong. 

“No, you touched it!” 

“Try to concentrate.” Marianne teases with a sly grin.

Play resumes, Héloïse tries to concentrate, honestly, but she finds herself watching Marianne again. The other woman has her lips pressed tightly together, corners creased and dimpled with the effort of containing a smile. Her eyes are shining with mirth as she glances up at Héloïse, it must be her turn already. Héloïse flips a card and is rewarded instantly as Marianne’s smile spreads across her face. 

Héloïse looks down at the pile just in time. She slaps her hand down, correct this time, and drags the pile to her. She looks at Marianne again, face filled with triumph. “You’re cheating.” Marianne accuses, no malice, all affection. 

“I’m not cheating, I play fast.” She laughs as she rearranges her stack then places a new card down and immediately presses Mariane, “play is to you.” 

Marianne tilts her head to the side, but plays on, her grin getting impossibly wider. “Two.” Says Sophie, placing two cards, Héloïse was already moving, she had only placed one, “Two cards!” Marianne scolds. “Two,” Héloïse echos as she quickly corrects her mistake. Her card is quickly covered by two of Marianne’s. The other woman slapping her hand down almost instantaneously, “Two sixes!” Marianne shouts. 

“Oh! No!” Héloïse laments, “two sixes,” Marianne sings again as Héloïse presses her fingers to her cheeks drawing them down slowly in exasperation. She hates losing. 

Play begins again, Héloïse urging the other two to go faster. Leaping forward slightly as each card is placed. Finally, after several tense rotations, her hand slaps the pile claiming another large stack when two consecutive royals are played. Marianne’s smile instantly clamps down in a stoic expression of disbelief and detachment. It only makes Héloïse laugh again. 

“Do not be sore,” She chides.

Marianne scrunches her nose and wiggles her head a few times then signs a few bars of Tubthumping:  
“I get knocked down, but I get up again  
You are never gonna keep me down  
I get knocked down, but I get up again  
You are never gonna keep me down”

Sophie laughs and picks it up, “He drinks the whiskey drink, he drinks the Vodka drink, He drinks the Lager drink, he drinks the Cider drink.” 

Both women look at Héloïse who rolls her eyes and finishes, “He sings the songs that remind him of the good times, He sings the songs that remind him of the best times.” 

All three of them throw their heads back and belt out the chorus another time in unison. They laugh at themselves, totally content. Héloïse locks eyes with Marianne again. She feels the feeling, the one they aren’t naming.

“Again?” Sophie askes.

“I think not,” Héloïse responds, “Marianne and I have some business upstairs”

Chumbawamba was the soundtrack to their first time making love.  
\---

April 23st.  
They are laying in bed together, hair tousled from last night’s lovemaking, music softly spilling from Marianne’s speaker.

It's not the pale moon that excites me  
That thrills and delights me  
Oh no, it's just the nearness of you

Héloïse has the sheets tucked beneath her arms, totally at ease and Marianne thinks she is the luckiest woman on earth. She lifts the polaroid camera to her eye. Héloïse smiles softly and rolls from her side to her back, opening her arms like butterfly wings so one elbow is resting on the pillow above her, fingers brushing her cheek, and her other hand is tucked gently beneath her head. The pose is vulnerable, trusting, and her face is full of love. 

It isn't your sweet conversation  
That brings this sensation  
Oh no, it's just the nearness of you

Marianne snaps the picture and sets the camera aside on the window sill while the image develops. She leans in and kisses Héloïse tenderly, running her hand down the column of her neck to rest over her heart. “Stop looking at me like that,” the teases.

“Like what?” Héloïse purrs innocently.

When you're in my arms  
And I feel you so close to me  
All my wildest dreams came true

“Like I’m your everything,” Marianne answers with a tinge of sadness. 

“I don’t know how else to look at you,” Héloïse responds, leaning up to kiss Marianne’s collarbone.

Marianne’s face darkened, although Héloïse couldn’t see it, and she turned away. Momentarily hiding her face from Héloïse as she stood, taking her quilt with her, and took several steps across the room. She trailed her fingers gently over the petals of her succulent plant, collecting her thoughts. When she turned back around, she was struck again by Héloïse’s beauty and openness. This conflict had been brewing for weeks though, ever since Marianne had selected her next semester’s courses, and it was time to have it out, “we are running out of time.” 

If you will only grant me  
The right to hold you ever so tight  
And to feel in the night  
The nearness of you

Héloïse gave her a long, measured look before sitting up and pulling on an oversized school t-shirt. She stood too and took a few steps, not toward Marianne, but in the opposite direction. Marianne followed her progress across the room with eyes glued to the back of her head trying to read the slightings tilt of her head, the tension in her shoulders. Héloïse half-turned, blinking furiously as she came to an understanding. She grabbed her jeans from the back of Marianne’s desk chair and whipped around suddenly; “it’s terrible,” she said, her voice rolling like a tempest as she pulled on the jeans with stiff, jerky motions, “Now that you possess me a little you bear me a grudge.” 

“No,” Marianne protested quietly, careful to keep her voice neutral. It’s not that, not exactly. 

“You do,” Héloïse insisted, buttoning the jeans and placing her hands on her hips “you know you do.”

Marianne could think of nothing to say. She waited, ashamed by her own selfishness and how she was allowing it to poison their connection. 

“You are not on my side now,” Héloïse accused, with a small motion of her arm at the space between them. “You blame me for what comes next, the role I must play in my father’s business, you don’t support me.” 

Marianne shifted her weight between her feet and clutched the quilt tighter around her like armour as she raised her chin in defiance, “you are right.” 

Héloïse steps closer and tears begin to glitter in her eyes like shards of broken glass, “Go on, “ she invites, “say what burdens your heart.”

There is a long silence that stretches between them. Red rims Héloïse’s eyes and her nostrils flare. Her jaw begins to quiver. “I thought you braver.” 

“I thought you braver too,” Marianne snaps back quickly. There it is, finally, the truth that has been haunting her. Graduation is a crossroads for everyone their age and Marianne knows that on the other side of it Héloïse will be faced with a choice, and she will not choose their love. 

“That is it then,” Héloïse’s voice is full of pain, “you imagine me docile, worse!- you imagine me a conspirator!” A single tear falls from her eye. It rolls slowly down her cheek and Marianne’s world constricts to that one droplet. Marianne feels like she is drowning in it. “Well, imagine me happy or unhappy if it reassures you, but do not imagine me guilty.” 

Marianne’s heart shatters as she watches her lover cry. She thinks it is miraculous that there is no sound when a heart breaks. It's almost as though the universe could not create a sound for such devastation and silence was the only way it could pay its respects to something so gruesome. 

“You’d prefer me to resist?” Héloïse asks, finally, reaching up to wipe the next tear away angrily. 

“Yes,” Marianne says with a nod, crumbling in on herself as she braces for the response. 

“Are you asking me to?” Héloïse’s tears are falling quickly now, staining her face. Marianne rips her eyes away to look out the window, searching for clarity. Would she prefer it if Héloïse were to resist her fate and stay with her forever? That was an easy yes. But would she ASK Héloïse to abandon from the media empire she had been groomed to take over for her entire life to get it? Would she ASK Héloïse to turn her back on her dying father in his hour of need? 

“Answer me,” Héloïse demands firmly baring her teeth. 

Marianne inhales sharply and squares herself with Héloïse again. When she speaks, she answers with the strength and conviction of someone who is absolutely certain. “No.” 

Héloïse nods twice, short and tight like someone who is double-checking a math calculation and has found the figures to be correct. She turns and sweeps from the room, leaving Marianne alone in her devastation. 

Nora Jones was the soundtrack to their hearts breaking.  
\---

April 29th.  
The last karaoke night before graduation, the last karaoke night before Héloïse was going to fly home to Paris, she found herself standing outside the aphrodisiac oyster shack without quite knowing how she got there. She’d cried more tears this week than she’d ever thought one body could hold, but she couldn’t stay away. This was the longest she had been away from Marianne since they had met and a magnetic pull brought her to the bar one last time, back to Marianne. 

It was late, 9:45, Marianne’s set would almost be finished. She could hear the music from outside, hear the crowd cheering and singing. She almost lost her nerve. She untucked her shirt, tucked it in again, took a deep steadying breath, then reached for the door handle. 

Their eyes met instantly across the room. Marianne must have been staring at the door all night hoping. She missed a note. Héloïse had never heard her miss a note on stage before. She made her way through the crowd, weaving and pushing slightly when necessary until she found herself right at the front of the room with the tips of her Doc Martins pressed against the stage. 

The other performer stood as the song ended, bowed slightly in response to the applause, and exited the stage. Marianne came forward and took his place without a word. She settled the guitar in her lap again, tilted the microphone down to her lips, and said two simple, perfect words: “Forgive me.” Then she began to sing: 

This is my love song to you  
Let every woman know I'm yours  
So you can fall asleep each night, babe  
And know I'm dreaming of you more

The rock music washed over Héloïse like a cleansing fire. Her whole body seemed to pulse with the chords and conviction in Marianne’s voice as she sang the lyrics out. 

And with this love song to you  
It's not a momentary phase  
You are my life, I don't deserve you  
But you love me just the same  
You are my life, my love, my only  
And that's the one thing that won't change

‘Won’t change- no it would never change. They wanted each other, loved each other, even if they had never said it that much was certain. They were in love, but not all loves are made to last. There are some things that are bigger than individual wants and desires no matter what the movies and poems say.’ Héloïse thought as she watched Marianne perform each word and each note searing itself into her memory like a brand. 

I'll never stop trying  
I'll never stop watching as you leave  
I'll never stop losing my breath  
Every time I see you looking back at me

I'll never stop holding your hand  
I'll never stop opening your door  
I'll never stop choosing you babe  
I'll never get used to you

The music fades, the bar is silent as Marianne reaches up and wipes a single tear from the corner of her eye. Everyone seems to be holding their breath. Before Héloïse is fully conscious of her decision to move her right foot is on the stage. She steadies herself with both hands before taking a small hop-step up. She stands directly in front of Marianne, who looks up at her like she is a shooting star embodying the wonder and magic of the cosmos. 

“There is nothing to forgive,” Héloïse says. Marianne’s eyes close softly, then she throws her arms around Héloïse’s waist, pressing her face into her stomach, guitar caught between them. “I still have to go,” She adds, not wanting to break the moment, but needing to be clear about what her presence here means. 

Marianne nods against her skin, “I know.” She says, “You wouldn’t be the woman I love if you didn’t. Promise me you won’t regret anything, just remember.” 

SafetySuit is the soundtrack to their goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the angst, these are some of my absolute favorite scenes from the movie, it will be worth it!
> 
> Song titles used in this one are mostly mentioned in the text but for ease, in case you'd care to listen:  
> When I kissed the Teacher- ABBA (or Lilly James if you want the movie version)  
> Tubthumping- Chumbawamba (yes that is actually the song name)  
> The Nearness of You- Nora Jones (her come away with me album is a whole ass vibe)  
> Never Stop- SafteySuit (the rock version not the wedding version because Marianne is a rock n roll goddess)


	6. When We Were Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunion and reconciliation. I have absolutely adored writing for these two and hope you have enjoyed the ride!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place 4 years later (everyone does 10, but I’m not tryna have them wait that long). I’d highly recommend listening to Marian Hill’s version of “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” to catch a vibe for this final chapter. If anyone wants to write an extension or any kind of in-between extra or M rated scenes I give blanket permission I'd be truly flattered and would love to read if you gift it to me; just not really my style to write those. More notes at the end

28\. She was 28 and 4 years of her life had slipped away since Héloïse like pages on a Christmas countdown calendar. She had finished her degree in misery; throwing out the bedsheets that smelled like her, blacklisting songs that reminded her of her smile, and avoiding places they had walked hand in hand. 

By the time she had graduated her grandmother’s voice was frail on the other end of the phone and her father hinted that it, “might be time for a visit” whenever they spoke. Marianne did not visit. She came home. She packed up her guitar, her photographs, and her memories, and flew back across the ocean for good. She felt impossibly older and only a very little bit wiser as she watched the American coast fall away below the wings of the plane, but above all Marianne felt the absence of Héloïse.

As she walked the familiar-unfamiliar streets of Paris she found herself scanning the crowd for Héloïse’s honey hair, every time she picked up the newspaper she skimmed the articles for her name in print or in a byline, and when she went to the theater she searched the crowds for Héloïse’s ocean eyes. 

Soon Marianne stopped looking for work and moved in with her grandmother. She took on responsibility for her care, the insurance company paid her as a live-in nurse, and she was able to focus on her music. She played for her grandmother every afternoon and her memory and condition improved as she listened to Marianne pull the strings of time with her songs. Her grandmother encouraged her to take the stage again and eventually, Marianne agreed. She developed a bit of a following and became known for her sad, slow remixes of famous love songs. ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody,’ went viral and gigs became easier to book. She wondered if Héloïse knew they were in the same city. 

She wasn’t waiting exactly, but her mind constantly drifted to Héloïse and she caught herself staring into space completely enraptured the memories she was reliving in her mind's eye day by day. 

“You are unwell.” Her grandmother commented at dinner one night. “Are you sick and not telling me?”

“No,” Marianne said dejectedly, “I am quite well I assure you.”

“Marianne you never smile anymore, you were such a happy child full of songs and laughter. Now all of your songs are sad and you are so quiet. If you are not sick then what is it?”  
Marianne pushed the food around on her plate for a moment, but she didn’t want her grandmother to worry so she decided to share what had been weighing on her mind, “I’m afraid I’ve done something rather stupid and that it is too late to fix it.” Her grandmother waited patiently for her to continue. Marianne loved this about her grandmother; she never rushed things, and she never spoke just to fill the air. 

“I gave an ultimatum to someone I love and I lost.” Marianne sighed. She put her fork down and pressed her fingers to her forehead, “I was so young and so stupid I can’t understand now how I thought I could live without her then. I can’t understand how I could have given her the choice to leave when I knew she’d be taking my heart with her. I should have told her that we’d do long distance; that I would do whatever it takes to keep her in my life. I was so so stupid Ama and now I’ve lost her.” 

Her grandmother set her fork down slowly as well and looked at Marianne choosing her words carefully, “You are still young Mariannette, and as long as the sun continues to rise you will continue to have chances to fix your mistakes. She’s the one you sing for?”

“Yes,” Marianne said through brimming tears.

“Why don’t you tell her how you are feeling? Do you not have her number? Surely with all of this technology, there is a way to find her.”

“I do have her number Ama, it's just that it’s been so long that texting or calling seems inappropriate. I don't know how to reach her across all this space that’s built up between us.” 

Marianne wiped an angry tear away. She always cried when she was angry. She hated that about herself. Not that she was angry at her grandmother for asking, but saying it out loud after all this time she found that she was angry at herself for letting the fear of tainting her memories keep her from a chance at true happiness.

“Marianne I am surprised at you. How many times have you asked for performance gigs or mailed out those discs of songs to radio stations and been turned down? Does it stop you from playing? Does it stop you from asking again? No! You have not given up on your music so why would you give up on love? You have the power to decide your future!” Her grandmother reached out and curled her tiny, wrinkled hand around Marianne’s fingers and squeezed tightly, “Go, go back to America if you think that is what it will take. Find her and tell her that you still love her and that you want her back. I will be alright, I will hire someone and your father will help, everything will be just fine. Do not stay here and waste your life away on my account.”

“She’s not in America Ama,” Marianne said quietly. She looked away, ashamed that she had made her grandmother feel like she was holding her back and touched by the display of support. “She’s here in Paris.”

Her grandmother blinked slowly. She opened her mouth to say something and closed it again. Then she stood with some effort and said, “I can think of nothing else to say that you would want to hear, but Marianne let me be very clear on this last point; if you do not fight for love you will regret it for the rest of your life.” 

Marianne watched as her grandmother retreated down the hall into her room thinking over everything she had said and wondered if her grandmother had a lost love that she regretted. She didn’t want to regret Héloïse. In fact, they had promised that they wouldn't regret anything so wasn’t she breaking that promise by sitting here and regretting letting her go?

She picked up her phone and opened the old contact. She typed out a short message and sent it before she could overthink. She stood and put her phone in her back pocket then picked up the dinner plates. As she walked toward the kitchen the loud, single tone of an incoming text message echoed through the apartment. She rushed to the counter to place the plates down again and fished the phone back out of her pocket. 

The screen unlocked revealing the text message screen. At the top was the contact ID photo, a small circle showing Heloise laughing as she sat on a paddleboard, hair lit by the late-evening sun, sky exploding in a beautiful sunset behind her. Below the image, the contact name, “the ultimate card champion (don't you dare change this Marianne).” Then the message chain, empty but for two bubbles. First her original message: “Pont des Arts 8 pm tomorrow. No more regrets.” Then Heloies’s response: “How about now?” 

\---

Héloïse waited at the north end of the Pont des Arts pacing back and forth across the mouth of the bridge. She had been waiting for 15 minutes. Marianne had said she would make it there in 10. It made no sense for Marianne to reach out after all of these years and then not show. There must be a mistake. She looked at her phone again, her thumb hovering over the call button, as she warred with herself. Then she heard it. Guitar music floating across the water.

‘The other side,’ Héloïse thought, ‘she’s on the other side of the bridge, you idiot!’ The opening lyrics of the song reached her, waking something that she had buried at the very bottom of her heart:

Everybody loves the things you do  
From the way you talk  
To the way you move  
Everybody here is watching you  
'Cause you feel like home

She climbed the steps onto the footpath of the bridge entranced by the yearning sound of Marianne’s Adele rendition and started to run. The many-colored metals of the love-lock bridge glittered before eyes as she raced toward Marianne.

You look like a movie  
You sound like a song  
My God, this reminds me  
Of when we were young  
Let me photograph you in this light  
In case it is the last time  
That we might be exactly like we were  
Before we realized  
We were sad of getting older  
It made us restless

Héloïse burst from the other end of the bridge just as the chorus faded. There was a small crowd standing around someone sitting on the edge of the riverwalk wall. Héloïse was gasping for air and pressed a hand to her chest as she drew closer heart pounding:

I was so scared to face my fears  
‘cause nobody told me that you'd be here  
And I swear you moved overseas  
That's what you said when you left me  
You still look like a movie  
You still sound like a song  
My God, this reminds me  
Of when we were young

Marianne had her eyes closed as she put all her emotion into the song. She was wearing a wool coat, buttoned all the way up, with the collar flipped high against the wind. She had grown her hair out and it was twisted into a bun at the back of her head. Finally, she opened her eyes, and just as they had at the bar that first night, they took Héloïse’s breath away. Marianne’s face crumpled with relief and she swayed a little on the wall like the very sight of Héloïse had made her unsteady. She jumped to the end of the song with a short bridge, slowing the beat, singing just to Heloise now:

It's hard to admit that  
Everything just takes me back  
To when you were there  
To when you were there  
And a part of me keeps holding on  
Just in case it hasn't gone  
'Cause I still care  
Do you still care?  
It was just like a movie  
It was just like a song  
My God, this reminds me  
Of when we were young

Those watching clapped in appreciation, couples held each other a little tighter, and everyone dispersed as Marianne set her guitar down on the wall beside her clearly done playing. Everyone dispersed, that is, except for Héloïse. 

She sat down beside Marianne and drew one leg up onto the wall, folding the knee so that she could turn sideways and face Marianne. She looked the same, and also different. Her face was longer and thinner, the last traces of childhood gone. It accentuated her high cheekbones even more and made Héloïse want to reach out and stroke her sharp jaw. There was a row of new piercings along the curve of her left ear and a scar that looked suspiciously like a burn on the back of her left hand.

They sat in silence, listening to the water below for a long time, unsure of where to begin. 

“I was on the other side,” Héloïse said, waving a hand back across the bridge. 

Marianne followed the motion and let her eyes linger on the lit-up Louvre. "I knew that if I played, you would come." She was quiet for so long after that Héloïse thought she might not continue, but then, still looking across the water she said, “Héloïse I have been so stupid. I have wasted so much time.”

Héloïse’s heart constricted. After all this time to see her again, and see her in pain, it was almost too much to bear, but she was determined to let Marianne say what she needed to say. It had been her that had finally broken their silence after all. 

“I texted you because I wanted to ask you for something...” 

Unexpected,

“something I don’t deserve...” 

You deserve everything my love,

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to give it, but I hope you will..” 

“Look at me,” Héloïse said aloud softly, “please,” 

Marianne stopped her rambling. For a moment Héloïse thought she might not comply, but she did. Marianne turned so that they were facing one another and looked Héloïse right in the eyes. Héloïse could see roiling emotions within and wanted to kiss them all away leaving only love. ‘Not yet,’ she told herself, ‘wait just a little longer.’

“You are still so beautiful,” She said with a smile, “What is it that you want Marianne?”

Marianne’s lip quivered and she took a shaky breath, “I want a second chance. I know that we were young and life gets messy, but Heloise I loved you so much. I love you still. I sang it to you every chance I had, but I never said it and should have. I should have told you every day how much I loved you and I never should have let you go. I want another shot at this, at us, and I’m hoping that you do too.” 

It was a perfect speech; better than most of the ones Héloïse had imagined for her over the years and she smiled in response, tears of happiness in her eyes. She reached out and took Marianne’s hands in hers. “What took you so long?”

Marianne laughed in exasperation, “I might never have come to my senses if my grandmother...” Marianne shook her head. 

“Oh no,” Heloise said, “did she pass away?”

“No, no, she’s fine she- well she yelled at me and told me that I was absolutely insane to give up on love. She made my reasons for staying away seems stupid and they were so so stupid Héloïse.” She leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I’ll have to thank her one day,” Héloïse said, smiling even wider, trying to maintain eye contact despite being only centimeters apart. “Marianne?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me, darling.” 

When Marianne kissed her the rest of the world melted away. It was warm and soft and felt like coming home. Like every kiss in the last 4 years had been a lie and a terrible imitation. Marianne’s fingers slid into her hair pulling her close and Heloise hummed in response. She grabbed onto the lapels of Marianne’s coat to steady herself and leaned against the other woman, her firm body and warmth confirming that this was not another dream. 

Breathless Héloïse pulled back, but Marianne chased and she allowed herself to be caught with a smile. They kissed for what felt like an age in the lamplight, but soon kissing was not enough. Heloise dropped a hand to Marianne’s thigh and the other woman froze, “You said you live 10 minutes for here?” She asked, her voice low and needy. 

“Yes,” Marianne answered, scooting a little closer, “but with my grandmother.” 

Heloise chuckled and started drawing small circles on Marianne’s inner thigh with her thumb, “that’s not gonna work, I want to hear you scream my name tonight.” She watched in the delight as Marianne shivered, “Come on, it’s further, but we’ll go to mine.” She stood and held out a hand for Marianne to take. 

Marianne looked up at her like she was a miracle, but she didn’t take Héloïse’s hand yet, “Just like that? Are you sure?” She asked, looking so surprised and so vulnerable sitting there on the wall with her hair mussed, her eyes blown, and her lips kiss-bruised. 

“Absolutely,” Heloise answered, leaning forward to pick up Marianne’s hand and pull her to her feet, “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used and the title song is "When We Were Young" by Adele.
> 
> The idea for this final chapter came from the "bath tube" interview where they are asked if they think the story would have turned out differently because of all the modern technology like "what's app" if it were set today. Adele says something like "I think it's always hard to separate." and Noemie comments that "you do not know if the person will answer." Anyway, it is adorable not sure if the link will work but try (here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hvFFCl1oQ4) or google it. 
> 
> I've had a couple of other ideas while writing this (mostly inspired by tumbler) so I'm wondering if I were to write something else for them, what would you be most hype to read? Its always encouraging to know you have an audience.  
> 1\. A lead actress/stunt double enemies to lovers AU (not really enemies more like Marianne annoyed that Héloïse likes to do most of her own stunts) --> might also work in a "there was only one bed" trope because why not  
> 2\. A "they were both professors" AU (based on a comment that teachers with their students are icky) We'll have Marianne (painter) Héloïse (something to do with philosophy/feminism) and the students noticing/shipping their blatant flirting  
> 3\. A Pride and Prejudice AU with Marianne as Darcy and Héloïse as Elizabeth


End file.
